The Tainted
by october violet
Summary: There are many who have had their fate twisted by the Darkness. But rare are the ones who have been tainted by Light.
1. Chapter 1

The Metal Heads were all gone; there was nothing left here for them. Every building had been looted, every pane of glass smashed, every trash can tipped over, its contents scattered and usually eaten. All technology and all life had been destroyed, and for a while ever the rats were afraid to venture out in the depths of the night, afraid to be caught unwary and walk into the waiting jaws of some yellow-eyed, black-blooded drooling monster. The Metal Heads were hungry for a while, hungry and wasting away, until finally the received the order to leave their posts and report to the Hive: a new empire, one ruled by Metal Heads, was being established, and this dead and ruined area was of no use to them now.

After a time, the rats dared to venture out once again, to thrive in the filth and ruin that now was the only thing left of a once-proud section of a once-proud city. Croca-dogs prowled and rats were rampant, for another elfin face had not been glimpsed within the ruin for so long that the creatures had completely forgotten all that had once been.

A shifting and crunching of rubble drew the attention of a group of pigeons. They scattered as the glimpsed a bright, unnatural light from within the midnight darkness. They scattered, and saw no more of that area at that time. If they had stayed, they would have seen a child of about twelve or so round the corner bathed in the harsh light of the torch he held in his hand. It was deep in the midnight hours, and the shadowy-lined face of the boy hid the fear that had his heart beating a rhythm of death. He looked around for a moment and then turned and waved the torch into the darkness. A faint light in the darkness showed that there was another torch-bearer in the distance. The boy watched as the other torch-bearer drew nearer, the bead of light bobbing from side to side with each step.

The light, nearer, revealed a girl. She had long black hair in a brain down her back, and she wore a brown overcoat that was too big for her. She appeared to be about fourteen, although she may have been big for her age. She spoke briefly to the boy in a low voice, and they set off into the darkness, taking a trail of light with them. There were none in the ruin to be disturbed as the two slipped on the loose rock of the piles of rubble, and, breathing heavily, disappeared into a small sewer grate and pulled it shut with a grating click.

The two children advanced down a dripping tunnel. Mold grew on the cold stone walls and floor, and their bare feet slid around. They walked as fast as they could – there were sometimes a few Metal Head patrols down there, and the girl's hand rested on a slim black gun at her hip. Her eyes darted around, and she audibly sighed with relief as the two of them passed through another grate and locked it behind them.

The two children sat down on rocks they used as chairs. The girl found herself breathing heavily, afraid of the consequences of what she had just dared to do. "Liam," she said to the boy, "do you think it's safe up there?"

"It's not safe anywhere, Olexa," he replied with a sigh. He was still a boy, not yet to puberty, and his voice squeaked slightly. "But yes, I'd say it's safer there than anywhere else." He stood up and stretched his leg muscles. "We'll all go up tomorrow, as planned, right?"

Olexa nodded. "You're absolutely sure that there are no more patrols?" She looked a little doubtful.

"You're spent just as much time monitoring it as I have," Liam said with a hint of impatience. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing out there."

Olexa nodded and stood up. "I'm going to go and check the dorms," she murmured. "Everyone should be asleep by now."

"I'll check security, and be with you in a minute," Liam muttered, slightly ashamed at being cross with her. "It's safe, Olexa. I promise."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The "dorm" was a long, low room, slightly less damp than the tunnel. The cold stone floor was littered with pieces of rock. Some of the loose rock against the wall had begun to shift and crack. But other than that, the room was tidy and well-managed. Olexa listened to the sounds of even, deep, relaxed breathing and for a little while there was a peaceful calm.

But Olexa braced herself for what she knew would be coming soon: the whimpers and cries she comforted every night. This was about the time the nightmares began. Olexa didn't know why; there seemed to be no explanation for the way the children began to scream in the night, almost exactly at the same time.

A whimper came from the end of the room. Olexa walked down the rows of bedrolls that were laid out to become an uncomfortable but necessary row of makeshift beds for the children.

Of course, it was Laurelee. She was usually the one who suffered the worst. She cried out in her sleep, and tears ran down her face, glittering golden in the dim light of the few torches that lined the walls for those of the children who feared the dark.

"Ahn… no, Ahn!" Laurelee screeched. Olexa sat and looked at her, waiting for her to wake up. Liam, who was more educated than Olexa, had told her to simply let the children dream, and not to comfort them, but she couldn't bear to watch them suffer and not help them. When she would not give in, Liam simply told her to at least let them wake themselves. This she was willing to comply with.

With another cry, Laurelee sat up. Burying her face in her hands, the seven-year-old sobbed silently for a moment. Then she looked up at Olexa, and pure anguish shone in her tear-filled brown eyes. "They took Ahn," Laurelee whispered. "They took her….. they shot her for using a JET-board…. I remember things…."

"I know you do," Olexa said soothingly, giving the girl's thin body a tight hug. "But someday the memories won't hurt as much. I promise you that."

"When is someday?" Laurelee asked, wiping tears from her face. "Is it tomorrow?"

"It's soon," Olexa promised the little girl. "It is very very soon."

Another child cried out, and Olexa went to comfort him. Her mind was sluggish with fatigue, but there were hours of work left to do if they were to move out of the sewers the next morning. Olexa longed to feel sunlight on her pale skin, and to feel a breeze that would ruffle her long hair as it had when she lived with Mother Maria on the plains as a small child. But these simple pleasures most took for granted would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, at least, there were children to comfort, then meager belongings and dwindling supplies to inventory and pack, and then, much later, if she was lucky, a few hours of sleep.

Several minutes later, Liam entered the room. Olexa was soothing yet another child, and several others were struggling in their sleep. Liam's sadness only grew through the long minutes he spent helping Olexa comfort the small children and reassure the older ones.

It was perhaps another hour before all of the children but Liam and Olexa were asleep again. They dreamed, as a rule, once per night; this was how it always had gone.

Olexa would have liked to sit back and close her eyes in a deep, forever sleep. But no – she had to pack up the few spare items the group owned, and make sure that the rest of the supplies were packed up and stored efficiently.

She took a brief rest and a few deep breaths. "What do you want me to do?" Liam's voice startled her back into reality. "Just go to sleep and be ready to work hard tomorrow," she instructed him.

He shook his head in protest and began to walk toward the door. "I'll start packing," he murmured. "You'll be in in a bit?"

Olexa stood up and followed him. "I'll be in now." Neither of them spoke again as they started to bag up the spare blankets, jackets, and sturdy boots that Olexa and her twin sister Muriel had stolen from a shop when the city had first been in complete chaos, just before the fall of the Palace. That had been three months ago, before their little band of lost children had come together in the sewers and begun to safeguard themselves from the utter hell that the city on the surface had become. And, as for Muriel, Olexa chased the thoughts from her mind and forced herself to smile for a moment, even though no one could see her. She pasted on this fake smile, this lie, and worked faster.

At last she came upon the one item she hoped had been lost. She never wanted to see it again. But for all the hatred and pain she felt as she looked at it, for all the wanting to fall to her knees on the stone floor and retch, she could not help bringing the beautiful quilted down jacket to her face and breathing in the lingering scent that brought back so many memories that she, like Laurelee, wanted only to forget.

Raspberries. It smelled like raspberries, the scent Muriel always wore. Olexa never had any use for such things, but Muriel like the scent and she wore raspberry-scented perfume every day.

Olexa stifled the combination whimper-yawn that rose from her throat. She resisted the urge to throw the jacket away. It had been Muriel's, and she just wanted to forget….

Liam took the jacket gently from her hands and put it in the bag. He did not offer any type of consolation – it was not his way, and besides, he knew it wouldn't do any good. Some grief could only be comforted by time. "Keep on going, or there won't be time for sleep," he warned. Olexa merely nodded.

Liam went back to his own work, troubled by Olexa's silence. He knew only that the jacket had belonged to Olexa's sister Muriel, and that Muriel was "gone." Liam had never met Muriel – Olexa had been alone when she first found Liam starving on the streets and showed him the fine art of picking the purses of the dead scattered on the streets. Liam thought that Olexa carried a secret, but he had never inquired – that, too, was not his way.

At last it was over, this time of packing that would lead the way to a new beginning for them and their little makeshift family. They piled the sturdy but filthy pile of brown cloth bags near the grate that marked the boundary of their safe zone. With a murmured "Goodnight," the two of them retired to their bedrolls on opposite sides of the dorm. Near-darkness and silence left them completely alone to think their thoughts.

Liam couldn't imagine what must've happened to the children, and to Olexa, to make them the way they were – gaunt and fearful, tortured by nightmares that they would hardly speak of. At least the younger ones were comforted Liam rarely had nightmares, but Olexa awoke screaming just as often as the young children. Olexa wanted no comfort in her nightly torment. It troubled Liam, but her kept silent for Olexa's sake. He didn't want to upset her further.

He thought for a moment. What did he have to have nightmares about? The worst moment of his life had been when he first stole from a corpse. The streets of Haven City were littered with mangled bodies. They Metal Heads would devour part of a victim, but with so much prey running around wildly, they couldn't help but get sidetracked.

"They'll have lots of money on them," Olexa had whispered in his ear. "Just take the wallet and get out of the way of the Metal Heads." Clearly Olexa accepted this was a way of life, but that made it no easier for Liam. Stealing from the dead seemed like a horrible crime. "They're not going to miss it," Olexa reassured him, but he saw sadness in her eyes.

Across from him in the dorm, he hear a whimpering sigh and a fretful breath as Olexa slept.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early, and Olexa sang. Her tune was mournful but her spirit was light as she handed out bread to the children with the help of eleven-year-old Taj. Taj was good with the youngest children, Marisol and Jeneta, who were only six but hot-tempered-as they came. The two little girls often fought, and Taj was the only one who was ever really successful at settling their little quarrels.

"Olexa," ten-year-old Shayne asked over a mouthful of stale bread, "when we live on the surface again, will we get food that isn't so nasty as this?"

Although none of the children had a habit of complaining, Olexa was a big advocate of honesty among the children, and Shayne apparently took this to heart. Olexa smiled at him. "I'm sure we will, Shayne," she said. "Maybe not right away, but yes, once we get settled we'll eat better." Olexa truly believed this. After all, there was always food on the surface – it was only a matter of finding it. Shayne seemed satisfied by her answer, anyway – he smiled happily and continued chewing his bread.

The other children were quiet, unusually so, and it made Olexa slightly nervous. "Where's Liam?" she asked Taj.

The younger girl grimaced. "Folding up the bedrolls and sweeping the floor in the dorm," she said with a hint of scorn in her voice. "I told that boy he needs to come and eat his bread, but he said he'll eat later and that I should give his portion to the little kids. Says he promises to eat later." Now a sneer edged her voice. "He's a bad liar. I kept his bread. You'll make him eat it, won't you?"

"I can't make him do anything," Olexa replied. "He'll eat when he gets hungry. He's a sensible kid."

"Not street-sensible," Taj muttered. "I'm telling ya, he'll be the death of us all. He's too obsessed with organizing stuff to worry about actually surviving."

This was true, and Olexa didn't try to deny it. She wanted to defend Liam – after all, he was her best friend – but there wasn't anything to say that would sound sensible. Taj was streetwise and cynical – she'd grown up in the water slums and was robbing houses by age seven. Although she refrained from theft here, in their family, Olexa knew that it wouldn't take much on the surface to send Taj back to her old ways.

Just then, Liam entered the room. "Everything's ready," he announced loudly.

"Let's get moving," Olexa declared.

If she thought the journey she and Liam had taken the previous night had been terrifying, there could be no words to describe the utter fear that gripped her heart now and turned her into a quivering icy mass that woodenly gave Taj and Liam orders. If the others were as terrified as she, they didn't show it. Slowly their band of friends made their way down the tunnel and out of the safe zone.

Now Liam and Olexa led the way, guns out. This was the most critical part of the journey. If they were seen now, before they reached the surface, they would have to go back into hiding, perhaps for months. And they all knew the food would run out soon.

Olexa tensed and tapped Liam on the shoulder. "Have you heard anything out there?" she asked, motioning toward the darkness.

Liam shook his head firmly, but edged the children forward faster. At last Olexa passed through the grate, sliding it shut and locking it. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked around in terrible awe.

What had once been the proud city of Haven was a mass of rubble and dust. Scraps of litter fluttered in the icy wind, and the light, so very much brighter than that of the dim torches, temporarily blinded all of them. When she could see again, Olexa looked up at the skeletons of the once-bustling skyscrapers. She felt like crying. Although the city had never been a very happy place, it was her home nonetheless, and she had many happy memories from it.

Her throat caught as she glimpsed the remains of a street vendor's stand, all torn cloth and shattered wood, scattered across the dusty street. They were clearly in the South Bazaar, near the entrance to the Upper Agricultural District. And they were utterly alone.

"Liam," Olexa murmured, "have you monitored the Upper Farms?" She put her arms around Laurelee, who was looking about with her large cocoa-colored eyes filled with tears.

"It's completely destroyed. The Metal Heads and KG patrols smashed the walls and left. The plants have probably taken over, fed by Dark Eco. It's wild. Dangerous," he added, as if she wouldn't know.

Olexa rolled her eyes. "But there might be food. How dangerous could plants be?"

"Dark Eco plants? Very very dangerous," Liam said grimly.

"Well, Sharlot knows the plants. We'll be okay." Olexa smiled at the nine-year-old girl. Sharlot, they had discovered, had a rare power highly prized in Haven City – she could speak to the plants, encourage them, and then they would grow tall and strong. Sharlot rarely spoke to people – she preferred plants.

Ten-year-old Willem stood close to Liam. He looked frightened. They all did.. In the cool, pale autumn sunlight the children looked gaunt and pale. "We'll move around," Liam said. "Keep a close eye out." Nervously he looked at the skies. "Olexa," he said, "do you think they can see us… from up there?"

She knew he meant the War Factory, haunting the skies. "No," she said decidedly, "they can't. We're small, and too far below them."

Liam nodded, his nerves somewhat eased by Olexa's confident answer.

It took them hours to go over a fairly short distance. They had to climb over hug mountains of dusty rubble. Arya, who was fifteen, mute, and, in Olexa's opinion, slightly stupid, accidentally gashed her leg open on a nasty-looking wire. Olexa examined and bandaged the cut, deeming it "not too deep; just rough."

Once, Jewelle and Willem, who were siblings by birth, stood in the middle of a cracked stone road and stared at the front of what appeared to be a burned-out shop. The two kids were quivering with – what was it—rage? Sadness?

"This is our parents' shop," Willem told Olexa solemnly. "They sold rope and clay pots, and we were there when the Metal Heads burned it." His voice was monotone, and he soon turned away.

"Let's keep moving," Olexa said. Her voice shook as she struggled to keep calm. She could see, in the back of the shop, two charred, slightly mummified bodies, and she hoped to the Precursors the children hadn't seen it.

With a sigh, Liam led their group of eleven over the next mountain of rubble. "Sweet!" Shayne crowed. "Look – a slide!" And, with a shout, he disappeared.

"Oh, gods!" Taj screamed. "That idiot!" And she sat on the slide – half a sewer pipe – and went after him, screaming curses all the way.

The rest of them scrambled down the rubble, looking for Shayne and Taj.

Suddenly there was a loud sound – the clamor of falling rocks and shrill screaming. With a cry, Olexa leapt forward (so worried so worried) and searched blindly through the rubble. "Olexa!" someone was screaming, "we found them! Stop!"

Someone was leading her away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Shayne and Taj were chorusing, but she could hardly hear them. When she looked up, they were all staring at her. "I'm sorry too," Olexa said with an apologetic smile. "I was just… so worried."

Taj patted her shoulder awkwardly. "We're okay," she reassured Olexa. "And guess what – there's the door."

"Score!" Willem screamed. He raced toward the door.

"Willem wait!" Olexa screamed. "We all go together."

It was too late. A blinding white light burst from behind the door. Olexa's head pounded. She could not look away. It felt like every part of her was filled with whit-hot light. Her blood seemed to be boiling. She fell to the ground… she didn't see, couldn't see… oh precursors, the pain…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to upload this….**

Faintly, Olexa could hear voices. They were not familiar to her. One was harsh and grating, almost a growl. Another was female, soft and husky, and still a third was an angry shrill. Another voice, the deepest, had a sharp edge but was not as gruff as the others. Olexa heard the voices, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. Think, she ordered herself. Makes the voices clear.

She opened her eyes. She could not see any more clearly than she could hear. She heard a voice calling something, and it took her a few moments to realize that the voice was her own.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Olexa?"

Olexa opened her eyes and shrank back from the interested face leaning in toward her. "Yeah?" she murmured groggily. She could see and hear better now than she had been able to the last time she could remember anything.

A woman's face was near her own, looking into her eyes. "Your vision seems to be better. Can you see clearly?" she asked. She had red, shoulder-length hair in dreds. Her eyes were a deep emerald green, and her skin was the color of ivory. "We thought there was a chance you'd be permanently blinded from it."

"Who are you – and what was that light?" Olexa didn't wait for the woman to answer; she was busily peering around the room.

She lay on a soft bed with crisp white sheets and pale blue blankets. The room she was in seemed to be some type of infimiry.

"I'm Ashelin," the woman told Olexa. "I'm the Governor of Haven City – what's left of it, anyway. I'm also the head of the Freedom League." She cleared her throat. "That light you ran into was a shield we put up. We have been busy using the Upper Agricultural District for a project, and we needed a shield." She shrugged apologetically. "You and your friends… ran into it."

Olexa's blood ran cold at the tone of the woman's voice. "…where are the others?" she asked hoarsely.

Ashelin sighed. "They're… well… some are dead… Sharlot, Willem, Laurelee, and Taj survived, as did Liam… but the others were weaker… they surrendered to the Light, I guess. Your friend Anya survived, but the cut on her leg is badly infected." Ashelin didn't say what this meant; there was no need. Olexa knew. She felt slightly faint and she sank back onto her pillows.

This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening. Marisol, Jewelle, Jeneta, and Shayne, dead? "No, don't give me more death," she murmured. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Ashelin was gone.

"Who's Muriel?"

The voice startled her, and she spun around in a half-sitting position, looking for whoever had spoken.

It was a boy, of about sixteen or so. He sat on the far side of the room with a thick tome in his lap. He didn't appear to be reading the volume, however. On the contrary, he was staring intently at Olexa. "What did you say?" Olexa asked. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks at the pitiful squeak that was her voice – she sounded so tired!

"I said, 'Who's Muriel?'" he repeated, still looking at her intently.

Olexa stiffened at the sound of Muriel's name. "I believe the real question is: Who are you?" she said coldly.

"Sorry." He smiled good-naturedly. "I'm Alec. I work here… sort of." He leaned against the back of his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I'm the Shadow's apprentice." He grimaced. "Though he does little more than hand me books."

Olexa didn't ask who the Shadow was. She didn't care. She turned away to face the door, shoving her fingers against her closed eyes and thinking I am numb I am numb. She did not cry, even when Alec persisted. "Who is Muriel?"

She turned toward him, angry now. "What do you know of Muriel?"

"Hey… I didn't mean to upset you," he said in a softer voice. "It's just, when you were asleep, all the time you were calling for someone named Muriel. I wondered who it was."

Olexa closed her eyes. "She was my sister," she said in a small voice.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

"What the hell is this?"

It was Muriel; Olexa knew without looking. Olexa pushed Lewis away from her. Muriel stood in the doorway of the staircase, looking in horror at her boyfriend Lewis locked in a passionate embrace with Olexa.

Olexa's lips were swollen from heavy kissing, her face flushed, her long hair loose and flowing from the cap she usually wore.

"I'm out," Lewis muttered. He zipped up his pants and swung himself over the side of the building, landing gracefully on the balcony below.

"Hi, Muriel," Olexa muttered, turning away from her sister and re-fastening the buttons on her ragged homespun shirt. She turned back to Muriel, shame creeping over her. Muriel's face was red with crying, and her eyes were filled with utter loathing.

"You little whore!" Muriel screamed. "You fucking bitch!" She lunged for Olexa, a crazed look in her eyes. There wasn't even time to scream – Olexa moved out of the way, and Muriel went tumbling over the side of the building to the street below. 

………………………

Muriel's face was obscured by some of her long black hair. A stream of blood ran down the dusty street from the lifeless body. Snow had begun to fall, and the white powder gathered on Muriel's clothes. Olexa couldn't look away, but nor could she cry.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Olexa realized she was sobbing, nearly screaming, and so hysterical, screaming so she couldn't hear her thoughts anymore, screaming her throat raw. Voices spoke again, blurs passing in and out of the room. Someone was holding her tightly. The person didn't let go, even though Olexa kicked and fought. She was held, until she gave up, surrendered…

… and still she was held.

Alec was there when she awoke. She glared at him, angry that he had been there while she slept, seeing her as vulnerable as she could be. He had a black eye now, she noticed. "Hello," Alec greeted her. 

She mumbled a "hi" and gave him the finger.

"No need for that," he said. "You've done enough already." He pointed to his black eye.

"I did that?" she said in disbelief.

He nodded.

"Sorry," she mumbled. It was true – she was sorry.

He smiled. "It's okay. You were hysterical. It's a good thing for both of us that I'm a lot stronger than you."

She remembered.

"That was you?" she stammered. "The whole time?"

She remembered…

… giving up, collapsing and just crying, and someone there for her for the first time in her life, someone to keep her safe… and she had felt safe, and she had fallen asleep….

Now she blushed in complete humiliation. "Please go away," she murmured. She had meant for it to come out as a command, but it sounded more like a desperate plea.

To her surprise, Alec nodded. "Ashelin will be back later; she wants to talk to you again." He stood and turned to leave, then turned to a small box on the table. "If you feel well enough to get up, there's an outfit in there that should fit you."

Still embarrassed, she murmured her thanks without meeting his gaze.

The moment the door swung shut, she sat bolt upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had a pounding headache, but other than that she felt just fine.

The clothing in the box consisted of boy's clothing: brown and tan shirt and tunic, brown pants, sturdy boots. Olexa put it on. It was sturdy and obviously made for comfort as opposed to style. She combed her tangled hair as best she could and arranged it in a tight bun the way she had learned to do when there was no hair tie available.

She folded the rough shift she had been wearing –had put it on her? – and placed in neatly at the end of the bed. She made the bed and sat down in the chair that faced out of the window.

The view wasn't much. It looked out onto the Port, a Port that was pretty much the same as she had known in her days in Haven City. There were fewer people now, and fewer vehicles to cram the airways. She didn't see any Krimzon Guard patrols. There were men in blue patrolling. This must, perhaps, be the Freedom League that Ashelin had spoken of. 

The door behind her opened. Olexa jumped as Ashelin entered the room, followed by a dark-haired, tattooed man.

Ashelin looked considerably happier than she had earlier in the day. The man, now standing next to her, looked grim. She motioned to the man. "This is Torn, my Commander. He needs to ask you a few questions." Without another word, Ashelin left, leaving Olexa alone with Torn.

The questions were basic at first: her name and age, the names and ages of the children in her care, her parents' names and occupation, her former address. Soon he asked more questions, though, ones she would rather leave unanswered. He asked her the story of the family she and Liam headed.

"I met Liam in the streets," she began. "He was starving. I was doing okay myself; I stole, and sometimes did a little… work…" Olexa hoped he didn't know what type of "work" she meant. Even when the city is in peril, there are still dregs who want to get it up.

"I taught him how to steal, and for a while we managed to avoid the Metal Heads. Eventually, though, we had to go into the sewers. Liam rigged up some sort of surveillance – I don't quite get it, but he's good at that type of thing – and we could just go and hide whenever we saw Metal Heads coming.

"One day we saw a group of people in the tunnels, coming toward us. It was a group of ten people: Arya, Laurelee, Willem, Marisol, Jewell, Jeneta, Shayne, Sharlot, and Jordanne. Jordanne was twenty-four, and for a while she was in charge. She got sick, and she died." Olexa felt nothing but indifference. "She didn't like Liam and me very much. I think she thought of us as competition.

"We found a big cache of KG rations – enough food for months, and water too. We kept watch on the surface. When we were sure the Metal Heads were gone, we went topside, and found… your 'light.'" Olexa felt hatred for the light now. She was used to the darkness, safe and small, a blanket around her, where she didn't have to see what she didn't want to see. Light had tainted her life and the lives of her friends – the ones, that is, that had survived the encounter.

Light is my darkness, she thought numbly.

"My turn for the questions," she said briskly. "Where the hell am I, and what do you want from me?"

"We don't want anything from you," he said mildly – as mild as he could sound with his grating, hoarse voice. "This is a makeshift hospital about the Naughty Ottsel, a bar in South Town." Olexa had never heard of the Naughty Ottsel.

"When can I leave?" she asked the man bluntly. She dislike being here, feeling as though she depended on something.

He raised his eyebrows. "Where will you go?"

"That's none of your business," she said coldly. "I want to leave, and I want to take the others with me."

Torn shook his head. "We can't let you do that. You're of age – you can come and go as you please. But your friends, they're just kids, and you're not their guardian."

Olexa glared at him fiercely. "I am their guardian – they had no other!"

Again he shook his head. "If you want to go, you may," he said. "But the children stay."

I'll get them, Olexa promised silently.

She turned and walked out of the room.

……………………………………………………………………………………

No one stopped her as she walked out into the pounding rain. She was a little surprised; she had thought that perhaps someone, anyone, might object.

She was soon soaked through her clothes, wandering around. The area was different and unfamiliar now. There were no entrances into the ruins. She didn't have anywhere to go. Her head pounded and she was so hungry… she could've at least grabbed some food before she left… why had she left?

…regret seeped into her blood, turning every part of her thick and hot with anger at herself. The others, the children, they were her family. How dare they just take her family away from her?

Someone was calling her name, and she remembered another time, another day, another voice, calling her name. It was Lewis…no, she refused to remember.

…she fell, and Alec was there… where did he come from?

…no…


	4. Chapter 4

The bed was soft, and Olexa was lying naked between rough homespun sheets. Every part of her body hurt, and her head ached again. She didn't want to move, but someone was talking to her, talking very loudly in her ear. She swore, annoyed, and slapped at the person without opening her eyes.

"Hey…." came a hurt voice from nearby. It sounded so familiar, but Olexa didn't want to think now. She wanted to go back to sleep. Nothing hurt while she was sleeping, and no one talked to her.

Try as she might, she couldn't go back to sleep. Her fingers and toes were burning. I supposed I got frostbite, she thought grimly. Damn rain.

She couldn't remember what had happened. She remembered snapping harshly at Torn, and vowing to get her family back to her. She had stormed out of the room, down a narrow flight of stairs, and into a crowded bar. Wrong turn, she remembered thinking. Several drunken men leered at her as she hurried out of the small room and into the pounding rain. Her thin, slightly-ragged clothing was soaked in seconds, and she was so cold. It had been warm before, but here, by part of the sea, it was cooler and cloudy, and she wasn't used to it.

That was all she remembered. That and darkness, and now, a bed. She tried to move and found herself unable to do so. She moaned, from sheer helplessness. Why couldn't she move?

Involuntarily, her eyes flicked open. The room was mercifully dark and quiet; she didn't think her headache could've allowed any bright light. She looked over to the side of the bed, toward the person she had slapped at.

"Sharlot!" she gasped.

The little girl smiled widely and ran out of the room and down a hall, crying, "She's awake, she's awake!" Olexa didn't know where she was. The ceiling didn't look familiar, and it was too much effort to turn her head again and look around to see where she was. She wanted to go to sleep again, but still she found herself unable to do so.

"Lil girl, you better not be teasing me again! Doctor Finch said that lil girl might not ever wake up again!" The hearty, rich female voice startled Olexa, and she summoned up all her energy to turn her head and look at the woman who was entering the room.

It was a short, slight woman with gold braids. Olexa didn't know what she expected from that booming voice, but it was not that. When the woman looked and saw that Olexa was indeed awake, she seemed to glow with excitement.

She asked Olexa questions about how she felt and what hurt. Olexa answered each question honestly, and asked the woman if she was a doctor.

The woman chuckled. "No, dearie, not a doctor, just a doctor's assistant. I work here, y'see."

"And… where exactly is 'here'?" Olexa asked, even thought she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"I'll be quite honest with you, dearie, it's merely a temporary shelter for those who've been displaced by the siege. It's turned into more of a children's home of late, though. All those who were with ye in the sewers are here, y'see," the woman told her. "And I'm just Auld Grissie."

Olexa squinted. "You don't look old," she said.

The woman merely laughed. "Do you want to guess how old I am?" she asked with a chuckle.

Olexa didn't want to guess – her head hurt too much – but she didn't figure she had much of a choice. "Um… thirty-five?" she guessed. It was a generous guess. She would have said thirty, but for the woman being called "auld."

Grissie laughed loudly, making Olexa's head pound all the more. "Sixty-seven!" she crowed. "Sixty-seven and not a day less!"

Olexa was fed up with the woman already, and she did not care to ponder why she looked so young. "…Can you give me something to make me sleep?" she asked, trying to sound pitiful rather than annoyed.

The woman shook her head. "You've slept quite enough, dearie. You've been sleeping for near to four days."

"Four days!" Olexa gasped. She hadn't known anyone could sleep that long and still be alive.

Auld Grissie nodded smugly. "Four days and not a day less," she beamed. "We weren't sure ye'd make it, lying there all pale and cold, but now, here ye are, awake and smiling!"

'Smiling' was a bit of an exaggeration – Olexa's face was twisted into a grimace – but it was true that she was awake. "My fingers and toes burn," she complained.

"And that they will for quite a while," Grissie said in satisfaction. "Durn near frozen off they were." She bustled about for a moment, doing who-knows-what, talking all the while. Olexa stopped listening; the woman annoyed her greatly.

Suddenly Grissie stood tall and slapped herself lightly on the forehead. "What am I doing, standing around here while you're there with nothing to eat for four days. You must be starved, dearie!"

In truth, Olexa didn't feel hungry at all, but she was too weak to protest. Auld Grissie hurried out of the room, mumbling about strong broth and tea.

………………………………………….

Three weeks later was a night that was darker than any night that Olexa could remember. She felt comfortable in the darkness. She belonged to it. It was her home.

She was stronger now, stronger and smarter and she had a grand plan. She slipped out of bed and got dressed in her washed and dried clothes. Then, holding her boots in her hand, she tiptoed down the hallway to the children's dormitory.

"Sharlot!" she whispered. "Liam, Taj, Willem, Laurelee, Liam!"

Six heads popped up. Obviously no one had been asleep, and the six of them were the only ones in the dormitory. Olexa hadn't told them of the plan; she had figured there was less of a chance that anyone would slip up and tell.

"Huh?" It was Liam. He tiptoed over to her. "Olexa? What are you doing up?"

"Get your clothes, we're leaving!" she said excitedly.

Sharlot began to cry, and Olexa could see her stroking the soft leaves of the plant that sat on her nightstand. "I don't want to leave!" she said, sobbing softly. "I want to stay here with Grissie!"

"Me too!" came a chorus of soft voices. "You can go, Olexa, but we want to stay here!"

Only Liam looked unsure in the moonlight. Finally he, too, shook his head. "It's nice here," he said softly. "We always have food and a bed. I like it." He looked at her sadly, turned, and went back to his bed.

"What do you mean?" Olexa gasped. She felt like exploding. "How ungrateful are you?" she gasped.

"Grateful?" It was Taj's voice. "Olexa, we were all in it together. We don't owe you anything."

Olexa wanted to shake them, all of them, but instead she turned. She went back to her own room, not caring who heard, and stood at the window looking out. She looked down at the dark, silent street three stories below. For one brief moment, she thought she could see Muriel's body lying there, crumpled and broken on the pavement.

I killed you… and with you is where I belong.

The paint on the window was stuck shut, it had been since she got there, but now Olexa had a burst of new strength. She pulled as hard as she could, and heard rather than felt her fingernails splinter and break. She didn't care; soon it wouldn't matter.

The ground looked so far away. She couldn't see Muriel anymore. She couldn't see, she could feel. She wanted to be with her sister, she DESERVED to be with her sister….

And suddenly the ground was so close, and the scream stuck in her throat burst free….


End file.
